Tears For the Enemy
by Pride's Prejudice
Summary: Draco Malfoy heard sobbing from the Owlry. And he is about to get Harry Potters whole story... Takes place after the ministry battle in the 5th book


**Alright this is my first Harry Potter fic and takes place after the battle at the ministry. I am always so annoyed that Draco has these assumptions about Harry and doesn't know what he's been through, so he's about to get the whole story…**

**Oh and I don't own Harry Potter. Yet…**

He couldn't do it. He couldn't sit there and watch him slowly cry him self to sleep. He shouldn't be able to either. Harry should be in his dorm, sleeping there. But no. Draco was perfectly capable of watching him, due to the fact that Harry Potter was huddled in a ball, up in the Owlrey, sobbing.

Draco had taken a late night stroll, expecting to wander up there, send a letter and make his way back down to the dungeons. This raven haired boy obviously halted his previous intention.

What was wrong? What could Harry Golden-Boy Potter possibly have to cry about? _He _was famous. _He _was charismatic. _He _had everything anyone could ever ask for. Strutting about the castle, never expelled or suspended for breaking the rules, all because of his divine purpose.

In Draco's personal opinion, this is all anyone ever had the need for. So why was he huddled like that, crying out every tear that a human could possibly posses. The school year was almost over, Umbridge was gone, Dumbledore was back and they could all go home.

The Ice Prince of Slytherin longed to know these answers. He longed to run his hands through Wonder Boys soft raven locks, and comfortingly rub his back. To hug him and let him know everything was all right. He wanted nothing but to have this weeping boy open up to him.

Grey eyes stared at the vulnerable form moments longer, before deciding on action. So what if Potter rejected him? So what if he didn't open up? He could try. Failing wouldn't make things worse, but succeeding could make everything better.

"H-harry?" whispered the boy, hesitantly making his way over. Emerald eyes shot up, embracing the silver ones in a sheet of worry and vulnerability. Draco made his way over a bit quicker and sat down next to the broken boy.

"Harry, what's wrong?" he inquired, attempting to place a pale hand on Harry's shoulder. He flinched away, forcing Draco to pull back.

"What's it to you? Why do you care? You should be doing a victory dance. You finally caught the famous Harry Potter in an act of weakness," Harry sneered. His words were made a bit less hurtful and spiteful by the tremor in his voice and the constant tears running down his face.

Draco sighed heavily. Of course he could see how this entire scene would have gone if Draco had been surrounded by his posse.

"_Oh look, Potty crying about his sad, terrible life of fame__."_

"_Is that pain etched into the face of the Boy Wonder?" Laughter. Lot's of laughter. Lots of external joy and internal pain for Draco. A façade so strong the Dark Lord himself couldn't see through it. As is the gift of the Malfoy's. The perfect ice sculpture. _

"Harry, I'm sorry. Just let me help you," the Malfoy heir pleaded. Harry looked up.

"Why? So you can go and blab to your fellow Slytherins, letting them know all of my weakness, all of my secrets? So you can go and laugh about it with all your buddies?" A cold laugh rang out. A cold, malicious laugh. Not so different from Voldemorts. But from a completely different person.

"Harry, listen. I have to do that, don't you understand? I have to…but I never wanted to hurt you. I have to…but I never want to. You have to believe me. Open up to somebody Harry!" Draco's voice had risen slightly, anger starting to boil up. Why couldn't he just accept help?

"Malfoy, as nice as this is, you wouldn't understand," Harry abruptly stated. Draco had to laugh.

"Not understand? Well at the moment Harry, I honestly don't know what you have to be upset about. You have everything! Fame, fortune, publicity, friends!" A bitter undertone had crept into the blonde's voice.

Harry gazed at him, alarmed. "Malfoy, describe me. In your words, describe how you think I am." Curiosity had gotten the better of him. He clearly had no clue.

"Arrogant, confident, you seem like you think you could rule the world. You could have grown up with everything you wanted. That's what it seems like."

For the first time since he entered the Owelry, Harry showed signs of amusement.

"You could not be farther off. You clearly haven't seem me in any other scenario other than fights. You really…you really don't understand." Harry shook his head, tears slipping from his eyes once more. Draco's eyebrow shot up.

"Tell me, Harry. What have you lost?" Draco's voice grew challenging and disbelieving.

"Um…let me think. PARENTS maybe?" Draco's expression softened. He was about to say something when he realised Harry wasn't done. "Almost lost a friend once too. Oh and don't forget how I witnessed Cedric Diggory's death. And just now, not one day before this moment, I lost my godfather. The only one willing to bestow any kind of fatherly love on me!" Harry's expression was growing murderous, and Malfoys was growing longer with every word.

"But if you had a godfather, whom I'm assuming is magical, why didn't you grow up with him?" Draco had become helplessly confused.

"Because my godfather was Sirius Black. The one everyone believes to have murdered my parents by selling them out, when in truth it was Peter Pettigrew. Sirius was wrongly shut up in Azkaban, leaving me with the Dursley's. When Sirius was looking for me in the third year, everyone assumed he wanted to finish the job he supposedly started. He was actually hunting down Pettigrew, and you know what? We could have cleared his name, I could have been with him, and I could have lead a HAPPY life outside Hogwarts, but the little bastard Peter got away. Ran to Voldemort! And I'm stuck with the Dursley's!" Harry was full out sobbing, and Draco was utterly shocked by the confession. So Sirius Black wasn't a murderer? He was Harry's GODFATHER? He was still confused about one thing though…

"Growing up with the muggles shouldn't have been so bad. I mean, they must have told you what you were. One of them obviously knew because they were obviously related the your mum…and you're they're nephew, they should have treated you well!" Draco was trying to coax the answers out of Harry, and so far it was working. Hopefully it wouldn't stop now.

"Treat me well?" Harry sneered. "HA! Do you know what my room was, the first 11 years of my life?" Harry questioned.

Draco shook his head cautiously.

"A broom closet under the stair. Hardly big enough to fit a mattress. That was my room. A mattress. I had no clothes of my own. All of them were second hadn't from my uncle and cousin, meaning they were always about 10 sizes too big! I was a servant for them, and I was blamed for anything out of the ordinary. I was a punching bag for my cousin. I was lucky if I got fed three times a day. And being a wizard? I found out about that when Hagrid broke down the door and told me. I was told my parents died in a car crash!" Harry was yelling now, tears pouring violently down his cheeks.

Draco was shell-shocked. He had had such a terrible life…and a car crash?! A car crash kill Lilly and James Potter? What a stupid notion. A closet? A closet as his room? A SERVANT? Being STARVED? Draco was feeling worse and worse for being so terrible to this poor boy. And he was always helping others…how disgustingly Gryffindor. Hide your pain and heal others.

"Ron was my first friend. Ever. And as for that confidence thing you were so sure about, I was told I was a freak every second of every day. Yes Draco, my self-esteem was thriving!" Harry snapped sarcastically.

"So…what are you doing up here now?" Draco prompted tentatively.

"I want a letter. Of any kind. A letter letting me know that what happened at the ministry was all a large joke. I want to know Sirius isn't dead. That our life together CAN happen, after I fulfil this damned prophecy. Clearly…clearly it's not going to well," Harry confessed, hot tears flowed more freely than ever down his face. Draco felt tears clog up his own eyes.

"Harry…I cant help but notice that every year, something happens that drags you away from school for a bit. Something that generally involves breaking almost every rule the school has. Where do you go?"

"Well this could get complicated…first year I was having a facedown with Voldemort/Quirrel for the sorcerers stone. Not fun. Second year I jumped into the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny, and ended up also killing a basilisk. Third year I wen to the shrieking shack, and had that whole thing with Sirius straightened out. Oh and you cant forget the Dementors. It's there fault I learned how to conjure a full patronus at eh age of 13. Then the fourth year I had a face the face meeting with Voldemort…watching him kill Cedric, watching him gain a body…watching him gain a life…" Harry shuddered. "It is my destiny to kill him, or die trying."

Draco's eyes widened. No wonder Potter was so confident sometimes…and no wonder was able to teach an extra DADA class. He had seen more than most Aurors.

But one boy shouldn't feel that much. One boy shouldn't go through this much. Especially not this boy.

Draco inwardly sighed. The love he had for this boy swelled to an enormous amount. But his confession was for another time. Right now, his arm snaked around the boy's thin and sorrowful frame, drawing him close. Comforting him was his only mission.

"It's ok, Harry. It's going to be ok."

And Draco's letter lay, forgotten on the steps of the Owlry. But it was worth it. He had finally unravelled the mystery that is The Boy Who Lived

**Wow…that was my first Harry Potter fic. ****Please review and tell me what you think :D do you want another chapter, and make it more than a one-shot?**


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